The Soldier and The Novelist

Duel as Proof

As we finished our meeting with the saint and headed towards the entrance, I asked the novelist walking beside me, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“About what?” The novelist replied with a resentful expression, not even bothering to look at me.

“About what the saint was talking about earlier. About my past. You seemed like you wanted to know.”

“I won’t ask.”

I was surprised by her straightforward answer. “Why not?”

“It’s not right to ask something personal from someone who looks troubled. Only worthless scum who don’t understand people’s hearts would do that,” she said with disgust.

“It’s like crows swarming around a corpse to greedily feast on it. Don’t compare me to such lowly beings.”

At first, I was dumbfounded, but then I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

The novelist glared at me with displeasure. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking that you’re actually a pretty nice woman,” I said honestly, surprising her.

Vilatis, who was walking in front of us, burst out laughing. “Sword, listen to this as a footnote. If we go back to Barda’s analogy from earlier, you would be the corpse being greedily eaten by crows.”

I fell into deep thought for a moment.

“I take back what I said earlier,” I said, glaring at the novelist. “You’re a much more unpleasant woman than I imagined.”

“Your opinion is lacking credibility and based on a weak imagination,” the novelist said uninterestedly, turning her face away.

I snorted in frustration and looked away. From behind me, I could sense Vilatis suppressing her laughter, and it only added to my annoyance.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the novelist muttered to herself, “You probably have some kind of connection to that monster, huh?” Her gaze was averted, and I found myself doing the same, giving a vague response, “Yeah, something like that.”

“It took me three days to get information out of the exiled Aldanak who was grieving. I don’t expect to get anything out of you easily either. I’ll wait patiently until you feel like talking,” the novelist continued in a monologue-like tone.

I let out a sigh and didn’t bother to reply. Although the novelist lacked the charm, I had to admit that she had at least a minimal amount of conscience.

Vilatis saw us off at the entrance of the reception hall. The novelist gave her a gentle smile, a gesture that I knew I would never receive from her.

“Thanks for today, Vilatis. Connections are certainly valuable.”

“It’s so like you not to call me a friend.”

The two exchanged friendly banter at the entrance, but eventually the female knight’s expression turned serious. “Are you planning to head to Evilshaw?”

The novelist didn’t answer right away, instead glancing at me in silence. The determination in her eyes was unmistakable. She was probably looking at me out of some small sense of responsibility, based on the saint’s prophecy.

It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t concerned about the prophecy. But to be honest, the thought of being indecisive was more troublesome for me. I was a mercenary. I had no choice but to follow my employer, no matter what lay ahead.

I gave a small nod in response to her gaze.

After confirming my nod, the novelist turned to Vilatis and gave a straightforward answer. “Yes, that’s correct.”

Vilatis let out a small sigh, as if she had expected this. “I suppose there’s no point in trying to stop you.”

“As expected of my best friend, you understand me well.”

Vilatis then turned to me with a question. “Are you okay with this?”

“As a hired hand, I can’t go against my employer’s wishes. Besides…” I glanced down at my new coat. “I’ve already been invested quite a bit.”

Vilatis looked half amazed and half resigned as she shook her head at the two of us. “To be honest, I was almost certain while making a copy of that notebook. Barda wouldn’t be able to stay put.”

The novelist’s lips curled seductively with anticipation as she held up the envelope. “I’m excited. I wonder what’s written inside!”

Suddenly, Vilatis spoke up. “The name of that city is Helathos. A city that shouldn’t exist. And until now, the Holy See was unaware of its existence.”

“Helathos?” repeated the novelist, to which Vilatis nodded.

“According to that notebook, it’s the diary of a certain resident. Some parts are difficult to understand and meaningless, but if I were to summarize it, it’s exactly the type of content that you would like. It’s a bit too extreme and gloomy for the average person to read.”

“Oh my!” In contrast to Vilatis’s solemn tone, the novelist sounded cheerful.

“Extreme and gloominess are like spices in a story. What’s important is the blending and finishing. If the flavor is too strong, I’ll cook it to make it easier for me to read!” The novelist said with a smile that could be described as aggressive.

Behind her, I shook my head in relief. Overconfidence can be refreshing at times.

Vilatis just smiled wryly. “I’ve said it many times, but I’m not trying to stop you. A reconnaissance team for the investigation is already being organized. If I had any advice as a friend, I’d say it’s better to leave early than to have the Holy See’s prohibition sign at the entrance of the mountain.”

“Yes, we’re planning to leave tomorrow.”

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” I turned to the female knight.

“Sure, what is it?”

“I’ve been wondering, do you not believe in the saint’s prophecy?” I finally voiced the question that had been bothering me.

If the prophecy was warning of danger to my life as the novelist’s guard, then she, who had hired me should be equally at risk. If Vilatis truly believed in the saint’s words, she wouldn’t have let her friend go into danger like this.

Vilatis shook her head in response to my doubts, as if it were obvious. “Lady Havandia’s predictions are always accurate. I have no doubts.”

“But then why…” I began to ask, but she interrupted me.

“I suppose it’s because I believe in them even more than you do.”

“What do you believe in?”

“In Barda’s ill luck,” she replied, and the novelist burst out laughing at the notion. But when Vilatis caught my eye, she suddenly straightened up, coughed, and brushed her hair off her shoulder with a theatrical smile, resembling a witch.

“I suppose ill luck is the perfect phrase for me,” said the novelist.

The line wasn’t particularly memorable, but her unwavering attitude was certainly admirable.

“Don’t worry, Sword,” the female knight reassured me. “I’m not blindly following Barda without reason. She may be an idiot when it comes to writing, but she knows when to cut and run, no matter how engrossed she is. Besides,” she added, calmly placing her hand on the hilt of her saber, “I won’t let anything happen to you two.”

As soon as I realized what was happening, I drew my sword without hesitation, not allowing fear to take hold. Our swords clashed with a metallic ring that echoed in the peaceful morning sun, the sound of our collision reverberating in the air.

Beside me, the novelist’s eyes widened in surprise. Vilatis and I exchanged silent glances, and it was she who lowered her sword first, a smile on her face.

“You’re a skilled guard. You’ll both make it back alive,” Vilatis said, referring to me and the novelist.

It was only then that I noticed a light layer of sweat on my back. The deadly silence and sharp edge of Vilatis’s sword had been intimidating. It was almost a miracle that I had been able to fend off her attack. If she had caught me off guard, I wouldn’t have been able to avoid a serious injury.

“With the captain’s words and all, I can only feel honored,” I sighed deeply and sheathed my sword.

“However, weren’t you really intending to take my head just now?” I asked Vilatis. “What were you planning to do if I couldn’t handle it?”

In response, Vilatis sneered. “Then Barda wouldn’t have been able to go to Evilshaw if she lost her escort, and at the same time, her life would no longer be in danger.”

I was speechless. I couldn’t even come up with a response to her rough logic. Seeing my reaction, Vilatis burst out laughing, clearly amused.

“Just kidding. Even I, as a knight captain, can assess my opponent’s abilities from their behavior.”

I remained doubtful, silently staring at her. Vilatis then lightly placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Actually, it’s true, isn’t it?” Her somewhat proud smile was irritating.

I wondered if I should draw my sword first the next time we crossed swords.

The novelist interrupted us with a murmur, “Alright…” When I turned to look, I saw a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

“That was amazing! That fight just now was like a scene from a novel. I see, the back-and-forth between swordsmen is really like this in reality.”

She abandoned her usual authorial tone and excitedly chattered away.

“I guess the pacing of the fight is what makes the swordplay stand out… As expected, it’s different when you see it in person. I should be able to make the next description I write even more interesting!”

Seeing her satisfied nod, I felt foolish. I glanced at the female knight.

“It seems the client is satisfied… In light of that, I’ll let it go, Knight Captain Vilatis.”

“That’s fine with me. I must apologize as well, I went too far.”

Vilatis gave a mature smile and I just sniffled lightly. She was a woman I just couldn’t tolerate.

I turned to the novelist who seemed lost in her own world and said, “Hey, if you’re done, let’s go. We need to arrange for tomorrow’s carriage today.”

“Oh, yeah,” the novelist snapped back to reality and nodded as if she had just remembered. But after a moment, she looked at me with dissatisfaction.

“Wait, why do I have to be bossed around by you?” The novelist puffed out her cheeks. As for me, I couldn’t help but feel that she was quite a handful.

As we were about to leave, Vilatis stopped us and said, “Wait, there’s one more thing I want to tell you.”

Her tone was serious, and she stepped closer to us, lowering her voice. “I can’t answer any questions, but please be careful of Cardinal Malmsteen.”

I frowned and asked, “What do you mean?”

Vilatis shook her head. “I can’t say more. As a knight, it’s all I can offer.”

She looked urgent, and I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. The novelist, however, seemed to understand.

“Okay, I understand,” she said.

Vilatis seemed relieved and the two of them exchanged a nod.

“Thank you for today, Vilatis. Let’s meet again.”

“Sure, but next time I’d like to meet you without my armor on.”

As Vilatis left, I felt confused and left behind. I caught up to the novelist and asked, “What did you mean by ‘I understand’?”

“It means I acknowledge what she said,” she replied without looking at me.

“But why? Is there a reason you trust her warning?”

The novelist replied, “I trust her reputation and track record. Vilatis has never lied to me, so there’s no reason to ignore her advice.”

In other words, it was more of an old friend’s trust and loyalty than anything else. It didn’t seem like I would get any fruitful information by prying further.

As we walked, I felt uneasy.

It was odd to hear the captain of the Church Knights warn against their own lord; it went against their loyalty as a knight. There was something off about the situation, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

If that was the case, there was one thing that could be said, “…The Holy See isn’t completely united, huh?”

My murmured words elicited a rare response from the novelist beside me, “That’s probably true. The larger the group, the more internal divisions there are. It’s similar for any organization.”

“I was part of a small mercenary union, but internal conflicts were an everyday occurrence…”

“Mercenaries are typically individuals who rely solely on their swords and lack the ability to engage in intellectual discourse. It’s inevitable that conflicts arise when they don’t take the time to discuss things properly.”

The novelist spoke with a look of exasperation towards me. It was a very accurate analysis.

In front of the gate of the reception hall, the two guards who greeted us before were standing straight and motionless in a salute posture. I thought about giving them words of appreciation, but my words were swallowed when I looked beyond the gate. Their salute was not directed at us.

Right in front of the reception hall, we saw an elegant two-horse carriage. It didn’t look like a nobleman’s cabriolet that could be seen running around the city. It seemed like some important figure had arrived. The horses with their beautiful coats were emitting steamy breaths, suggesting that the carriage had just arrived.

“If we gossip about it…” The novelist beside me muttered.

The well dressed coachman with a small top hat on his head opened the carriage door with a respectful gesture. The person who appeared from inside was a man dressed in black robes adorned with gold threads.

It was Cardinal James Malmsteen.